


Chickadee

by Platform 13 (freshneverfrozen)



Series: Hope County Bird Watching [2]
Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: F/M, Friends to Lovers, mild angst and hurt feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-07-05 22:06:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15872637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freshneverfrozen/pseuds/Platform%2013
Summary: He didn't have much and he wasn't crazy enough to risk what he had.OrThat time Sharky hurt his favorite lady's feelings.





	Chickadee

**Author's Note:**

> Far Cry 5 requests open on Tumblr:  
> https://freshneverfrozen.tumblr.com/
> 
> Might be a part two for this.

Hope County’s resident grenade-lobbing, fire-starting gentleman rabble-rouser had always known he’d wind up on the wrong side of the law again. Man, it was cool. He’d accepted it. Could probably write a song about it later and make money if that was a thing he wanted to do.  


But this? _This_ was not something he’d signed up for. Abuse of power at it’s damn _finest_. 

Sharky raked his nails through his goatee and frowned down the length of Mary May’s pool table. He had hustled and been hustled and quite frankly, whatever was going on now was, well, it was one or both of those things or neither. Because there was an ass wriggling over one side of the table that ought not be wriggling and it just wasn’t decent. 

“Uh...Dep?” 

Sharky had seen the good deputy shoot people for lesser offenses than ogling - he’d seen her throw big goddamn pipe bombs out of cars and laugh about it - and on the list of things he does _not_ want is a) to be shot, b) a pipe bomb in his lap, and c) a and b together, probably on the same night. 

“Dep-you-tee - ” 

She finally looked up at him over her shoulder, pool cue still poised, ready to send _that_ ball right there into _that_ hole over there and clean him out. 

“What’s up, Sparky?” 

That shit - that shit right there. He’s not even sure she does it on purpose and if it was grade school, he’d probably write her a note or something. Check yes or no. She flexes her knees, up on her toes and back down in those bleached jeans - 

He was a little, just a smidge, _mad_ about it. 

“I’m just sayin’,” he managed, somehow, probably due to awesome genetics and strength of spirit, to go on, “And hear me out here - that maybe we ought to go for the best two outta three.” 

She smiled at him like one of those movie villains - the pretty ones where it was just a shame when they got blown up in the helicopter at the end - and before he knew it, there was a _click_ of the cue against a ball, followed by a downright artfully orchestrated calamity of what was left on the table. 

The deputy straightened, her smile smaller now, though she was clearly proud of herself, and balanced her weight against the pool cue as she swiveled around to face him. 

“What were you saying now?” she asked. 

Sharky’s teeth clacked together, jaw locked and the key thrown away. He tipped his head down, did _not_ look at her cocked hips, and pushed his cap back to rub at his eyes. 

“You lost, Boshaw -” 

“Man, you are one dirty cheat…” 

He shoved his hand into his jeans, pulled out the wallet that was more or less always empty these days since Adelaide had suggested he bury his money with hers for some reason. 

He went on, flipping through the collection of ones and fives as he mumbled. 

“...thought better of you, Dep, really did.” 

She grinned wider when he smacked the last, cool seventeen dollars to his name in the palm of her hand. 

“You’re a doll, Boshaw,” she said. 

Don’t bet what you can’t afford to lose, a wise man - or maybe a woman - had once said, which was exactly why friends and/or cousins and flamethrowers weren’t in the night’s pot. He could part with a few bucks, especially when she waltzed up to the bar and bought a round of beer and a basket of fries for them to share. She slid the change across the table when she sat down and her eyes weren’t shining like they had been, not that he noticed because he definitely didn’t. Instead she was quiet as she nibbled, watching him look at everyone in the room but her. 

“Yo,” he said, and he didn’t know exactly where he was going with it, but it was weird lately when things got too quiet, “You think for the festival this year, instead of bull ball’s, we could convince Casey to let us get some Peggie -” 

“No,” she made a face, “No, no, no.” 

With her eyes scrunched up like they were, there wasn’t any way she could see him look as close at her as he did then. There was a bruise blooming over the curve of her jaw the last few days, one she swore up and down didn’t hurt each time he asked, and it would have look real, real awful on anybody else - not that he liked to see it on her, but she was tough and a badass and it just reminded him that she could take anything this county threw at her, was all. He had been pretty familiar with all the law enforcement officials in Hope County - for the sake of avoiding them when they came looking, not because he was friends with them or anything - but she had been a new hire. Big, big news that the county now had three deputies to look out for instead of two. 

Most of the times he’d been caught by the police before, he hadn’t been sorry, definitely hadn’t been embarrassed. This time he was both. Okay, to be fair, she was a hard woman not to look at but it was a little weird for a guy to go around staring at his friends, so Plan B when he’d been caught was to smoothly abort the mission. 

“You got ketchup on your face, po-po.” 

Grade A stealth staring. 

Her blush looked deeper under the red neon as it spread over her cheeks and nose. Why she’d be worried about some invented ketchup, Sharky doesn’t know, because he had seen her bloodied and with her clothes half-singed off, but she sure seemed that way. 

“Where?” 

“Uh...there, I guess?” 

She frowned. “There? You’re not sure? Get it off.” 

Spectacular backfire, Boshaw. One for the books. How was he supposed to guess she’d lean across the table at him, looking angry because Baby Jesus, help him, she somehow had figured out that quick he was lying to her. 

“Well, get it off, Charlemagne.” 

Well, shit… 

His fingers curled over the knees of his jeans when she leaned a little closer, elbows folded over the table, knees in her chair. 

“Uh...no can do.” 

“Why not?” 

“Dirty hands,” he said, “They...uh, spread diseases.” 

“Dirty hands?” she sounded unconvinced. Sharky couldn’t quite figure out why then, when she shrugged and said ‘okay’ a moment later, he was so disappointed. But he was. It hit him low in the chest, the quick twist of knot that was easy to swallow down except for the aftertaste. 

She dropped back in her chair and finished off what was left of her beer without moving to wipe at her mouth or anywhere else she might have had something if he hadn’t been lying. But she’d known he was and had called him on it, with the only outcome being that he’d have to either fess up or reach out and touch her. 

Leave it to him to have found the third option neither of them wanted. 

After a while, when what passed for a crowd in Fall’s End these days had taken over the bar and left her beer warm and near-empty, she stood and stretched. 

“I’m beat,” she said, “You staying or going?” 

It was a choice between her company or theirs and Sharky didn’t know most of them. The ones he did know didn’t particularly like him or vice versa etcetera. So he stood, which he supposed was an answer for both of them. 

“Where we going?” he asked once they were out in the street. “Cause I ain’t sleepin’ in that car again.” 

She sighed and pulled him along after her. 

“That was one time, Shark. It was a stake-out -” 

“It was cruel and unusual punishment to yours truly. Man, my back still ain’t right.” 

She glanced behind him, her eyes running from the shoulders of his old green hoodie to, well, way down by his knees. They probably lingered a little too long in the middle to be decent unless he was imagining things, which he did sometimes. When she had gotten an eyeful, she bumped his shoulder and directed him to take a right at the corner by the general store. 

“I do live here, you realize that, don’t you?” 

“Okay, well, you got to live somewhere, right?” he admitted. “But I did not know it was here here. Just, like, Hope County here. And honestly, I mean, I thought they put y’all up in the police station or somethin’.” 

She laughed and he’d heard people laugh before _obviously_ but hers was different. It had always been different, coming easier than he expected it too even when things had gone tits up. 

“Where’re they going to put us, Charlemagne? In the cells?” She shook her head, hair spilling out from under her bandana and over her shoulders. It would be so weird if he touched it right now. _Should not do that, yo_ , he reminded himself, shoving his hands in his pockets. 

“I have a pull-out couch and everything. Clean sheets too. It was all supposed to be for when my mom visited but...well…” She dragged those loose strands of hair over her knuckles, rougher with them than she should have been. “You might as well use them in the meantime.” 

Sharky grinned. “We’re havin’ a _sleepover_. Me and the po-po.” 

“I will shoot you, swear to God.” 

He sobered at that. Because yeah, she would. 

They walked another block or three, he wasn’t sure. When they weren’t running for their lives to escape a blast radius or belly-crawling through underbrush, time sometimes got a little fuzzy with her. Sometimes it went way too fast and other times, Sharky was almost certain some Big Guy somewhere had pressed a pause button. 

Her apartment was up the back flight of stairs above a store front. It had barely been broke-in good and judging by the state of things, she hadn’t spent much time here since the peggies started raging out over everything. It was small and clean, with pale curtains and honest to God flower arrangements dying in little Easter-yellow vases. He didn’t want to sit on the white furniture - which, what brand of crazy bought white furniture - and it was all so... _girly._ There she was, standing beside him, head down and staring hard at the toe of her grimy boots, with a .38 and a belt full of knives strapped to her hips and she had pastel coffee cups arranged in her, he supposed it was what some of those home-fixer shows would call a ‘breakfast nook.’ 

And all he could think was that he hadn’t bathed in three days. His shoes were m-u-d-d-y. Like, nasty, and standing right on her pretty welcome mat that was smiling up at him with big letters saying ‘Home’. 

Sharky could only hope that she didn’t tell Hurk how he came out of his shoes so quick it was like his ass was on fire and not some peggie’s. 

“Real nice place you got here, Dep,” he said once he was standing with his toe sticking out of one sock. 

She blinked up at him, her lips parted enough for him to figure that she didn’t quite know what to say. 

“I, uh, just don’t tell anybody else about the mess. They haven’t seen it.” 

Mess? Oh God...as many times as she’d crashed at his trailer and she was calling this Home and Garden advert a mess? Sharky turned his eyes away quickly, though he could feel his ears turning pink. 

“Let me get you those sheets,” she said. 

She turned and slipped off down the hall. There were only two more doors that he could see, probably her room and the bathroom. Curiosity got the bed of him and he followed after her and lo and behold, was he glad he did. His buddy, the gun-toting, badge-wearing Queen of Fuck Shit Up, had curtains matched to her bedspread. The bed was made like she’d actually made a point to do it before she left last time. When she put her hand against the pale-colored linen to kneel down and fish her other arm beneath the frame, he thought her fingers looked real nice, the best, actually, spread over the fabric like they were. 

He’d never thought of her as soft before, but she sure looked it now. 

“Can I help you out there, Dep?” he asked, instead of turning around and running back to the living room like he should have if he’d had any sense. To be honest, he was counting on her saying no. Or at least he was after the fact, when he realized what he done by asking. 

“Looking for covers,” she explained, straining, “I’ve got them in one of those plastic containers -” 

Smart, Sharky had never been, but he didn’t exactly have a death wish either, so suicidally stupid things rarely made it past fantasy. The deputy wasn’t just Hope County’s fighting chance, she also smiled when he talked nonsense and never ignored him when he had a point to make. She was something more to him and the way he figured it, he ought to be something more than just another person who took advantage. 

So, under his better judgment, he behaved himself when he knelt behind her in the small space between the wardrobe and the bed. He found the box before she did and dragged it out to fight with it a while before they got it to a place where he could heft it up and tote it to the living room. He didn’t let her see his face when she threw a hand to her forehead like some theater kid and said that he was her hero. She went so far as to make up the fold-out couch for him, turning down the covers they had found and then ushering him in with a dramatic bow and a grin. Maybe she _had_ been one of those theater kids. 

“You know,” she said when she had straightened up and all but slung him into the bed by the sleeve of his shirt - which might have been sexy if those were things he thought about – before settling down beside him with her bare toes tapping against the floor, “It’ll be nice to spend the night here.” 

Sharky probably could have a sat for a long time with just her shoulder pressed to his. On good days, he sort of liked the mayhem he could get away with when explosions were going off in the background, but with it quiet like it was, and those flowy curtains over there in the corner, it was hard not to relax into it. Mary May’s had been normal. Catching a few hours with the two of them cramped in her car would have been normal. But setting in her apartment in the middle of all her nice things? 

Well, now that the initial shock was wearing off, that felt weirdly normal too. Which was worrisome and probably should have made him a little twitchy, but really his main concern was not getting his filthy green sweatshirt all over the high threadcount sheets. 

The way he figured it, it was a chance to ask something he’d been meaning to, something he had wondered on and off for a while now. 

“You comin’ back here when it’s all over?” 

The little smile that followed lifted her cheeks in the sort of way that made him want to reach out and touch her. 

“You think I’m going to run off, Shark?” 

He scuffed the hardwood with his sock, saw the pitiful hole again, and reached down to snatch them off. 

“I mean, you might,” he said, his voice strained from the way he was folded in half, “Wouldn’t nobody blame you, Dep.” 

“My friends are here,” she told him quietly, “You’re here.” 

“Yeah but that...I mean, that’s not - you know what I mean?” 

Sharky didn’t think he had ever folded socks before, but he was sure enough folding them then, his eyes staring hard at them and not at her. From the corner of his eye, he could see the ends of her hair hanging down as her head tilted in the way it did when she was trying to figure the difference between what he had said and what he’d meant to say. 

“Well,” she finally said, heaving out a downright tortured breath he knew was bait, “I guess if nobody would miss me…” 

“Not true! Grace would miss you, just ask her sometime. And the sheriff...and -” 

Well, son of a bitch, he’d walked into it anyway. 

“...And Hurk, o’course…” 

He could ramble all night and she would still be watching him in that thoughtful way of hers with those bright, bright eyes that never got dull like everybody else’s. 

“And that Eli fella’s got some kinda bad crush on you so -” 

She sighed at that. 

“ _Boshaw_.” 

She was going to make him say it. 

Well fine and dandy, playground Sandy, ‘cause he would and could. 

“What?” he said, “You want me to say _I’d_ miss you? You fishin’ for compliments here, Dep, cause that ain’t nice.” 

“Well, I mean -” 

“You _are,_ aren’t you? Man, I knew it, I _knew_ it.” 

Somebody pat him on the back and give him a trophy, because a blush was creeping up her cheeks again and he’d put it there. Served her right, given what she was trying to do. 

“I mean, it’s cool, Officer. I thought we were friends but if you like me like that an’ all -” 

For a split second, he thought she might go for her gun and there he’d be, shot to death over a little thing like teasing. Like, he came real close to running just then, until she said the one thing that could freeze him to the spot like a deer in headlights. And man, had he seen what she did to those… 

She brought her bare foot down hard over his toes. 

“You know what, Sharky? Maybe I do. No, I _do_ like you like that. I think you’re so swell I’m letting you wallow over my clean sheets with that gross, mid-life-crisis-green hoodie of yours. You’re so swell, I let you lie to my face about the condiments that are so _not_ on it. And - yeah. I like you and think you should say that you’d miss me when I was gone, Boshaw.” 

Just like a deer in the headlights, man. That all hit like a mudslide. A one-two-three punch that made his breath speed up and then sputter. The last time he’d panicked like this, she had been plowing through a roadblock. 

He said the only the thing he could, which was all true, but it wasn’t exactly poetry. 

“Alright, if you got to hear it! I’d miss you!” 

He got to his feet about the time she got to hers, voice rising because she liked him better than he had ever thought a woman like her could. 

“So, don’t just go _leavin’_ or _dyin’_ or...none of that!” 

Maybe, in retrospect, shoving his hands into his back pockets to pout it out was a little like dropping his piece in a gunfight. But he did it anyway because he wasn’t supposed to be yelling at her when he tried to tell her that maybe she wasn’t just the Deputy to him. The little ceasefire left everything too quiet again and when he looked down at her, she wasn’t looking back at him. Her brow was knit together hard and a little sadly, he thought, and that blush was starting to look more like a rash she couldn’t get rid of. He didn’t like the look of this one. Not one bit. It wasn’t pretty like the others, it was the sort that came with hurt feelings and bad news. 

She was recovering from it, breath by breath. But it still wasn’t right that she wouldn’t meet his eyes. 

“Dep - ” he began but her sigh cut him off. A goddamned cease and desist. 

“I’m glad you’d miss me, Sharky,” she said and the too soft words were like getting his jaw tattooed out of left field, “I’m headed to bed. Make yourself at home.” 

He didn’t stop her when she walked back down the hallway. She had already locked the door when he made up his mind. 


End file.
